The King's Treatment
by Windblown.child
Summary: Bilbo suffers at the hands of the elf king which effects his relationship with Thorin. Dub-con
1. The Dungeon

Warning: This is a lot darker than I usually write, but it was a special request from a friend.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

The King's Treatment

Bilbo knew he did not like the elven lord the moment he saw the blond sitting on his throne. He liked Thranduil even less as Thorin was pushed forward and knocked to his knees. The hobbit was seriously considering saying he hated the king when he addressed the dwarf prince as if he were a particularly slow witted child. What made the gentle halfling list the tall elf with the Sackville-Baggins as truly despised was his self satisfied sneer.

"Well well, what do we have here?"

The burglar pulled away from the bars of Thorin's prison, glad that he had stolen at least one kiss if was to be ended on an elven blade. But Thranduil did not draw his wickedly curved sword. His arms were crossed, looking more surprised at the position he found them in than an unknown hobbit running loose in his dungeons.

"I had meant to offer you a trade, Thorin, Son of Thrain. But I have changed my mind."

The dwarf kept his hand locked tight around the Shireling's wrist and his voice went dangerously low. "What would you have of me?"

"I wished to see how much pain a dwarf could really endure." He tapped one thin finger against his bottom lip in consideration. "But now I wish to see how loyal this little creature is to you."

"No." Thorin squeezed tighter as if he could somehow draw the hobbit through the bars of his cage.

"Stop it." Bilbo tried to shake his arm free of the dwarf to no avail. "What do we get in return if I satisfy your curiosity?"

The elf was silent for a long enough time that the burglar began to fidget. "I would release the dwarves."

"All of them?"

"No Bilbo!"

"Of course, all of them."

"Alright." The burglar pulled against the dwarf holding his arm. "What would you have me do?"

"Do not do this Bilbo. You do not know what he will do to you."

Thranduil looked between the two and slowly a wicked smile spread across his lips. "Perhaps I will still have both of my questions answered here."

Bilbo blanched when another elf appeared as if summoned by magic. "I would have your body laid bare for my lieutenant to take."

Surely the elf did not mean what the hobbit thought he did. But when the unnamed elf pulled a bottle of oil from his pocket and gently caressed his groin, Bilbo knew exactly what he had agreed to. The idea of the action was not foreign to the halfling, but he had hoped to experience it in a different situation. Perhaps with someone he trusted. Someone like Thorin. The dwarf's hand fell away from the burglar's wrist in horror and Bilbo reached for the buttons on his waist coat. Despite the fear eating away at his insides, there was nothing he would not do if it meant the rest of the company would go free.

"You will watch this, Thorin." Thranduil's voice was cold and hard, but the dwarf obeyed, looking at the small hobbit quickly removing his clothes.

Bilbo could not meet the dwarf's gaze as he stood completely naked before Thorin and the elves. He wished in vain that the prince would have wished to look upon him, bare as he was, but out of desire, not guilt.

"On your knees."

As the halfling registered just how cold the stone floor was, a strong hand grabbed his hair viciously and pulled back. Bilbo refused to make any noise and he was pushed forward again, barely catching himself before he hit his face. He was aware of just how exposed he really was, his face was pressed against the smooth floor, hips forced upward. The moment the oil was dribbled between the cleft of his cheeks by the king, Thorin protested.

"Do not do this! Do what you would to me, just don't hurt him!"

"Tsk tsk, why would I stop now?"

"He has done nothing to you. Let him leave."

The burglar could see the lordly dwarf from his undignified position on the floor and wanted to tell him that it was alright. If this freed them, he would gladly give up his life for them. And then the hand that was not crushing his face to the floor was quickly opening him. Despite the oil to ease the way, the burn brought tears to his blue eyes and he instinctively tried to pull away. The elf was too strong and Bilbo tried to focus all of his might on relaxing his body.

"You will watch this." Thranduil hissed and the hobbit opened his eyes again. Slowly Thorin turned back to the scene before him. "I wonder if you could stand to touch him after, knowing that an elf of the Greenwood had your prize in every way?"

The probing fingers were removed but before the Shireling could relax, something wider and blunter pressed against his spasming flesh. The pressure built until he could no longer resist and the silent elf buried himself in the quivering hobbit. There was no stopping the tears that squeezed between the halfling's thick lashes and the dwarf pulled at the bars to no effect.

"I swear, if you injure him, I will kill you!"

The elfin king leaned down to look at the burglar's face, streaked with wet tears. "Little thing, there is no need to for torment. Ask for it to end and it will."

Bilbo remained silent as the elf behind him withdrew and snapped his hips forward again. It was a brutal pace and the hobbit wondered how he could possibly survive the onslaught of pain. The halfling force his eyes open and locked his gaze on Thorin's fierce face. When the elf finally released his hold on the Shireling's hair in favor of holding his hips and thrusting harder, the halfling tried to will the prince to understand that it was all perfectly fine.

"What a surprisingly strong creature. But I'm afraid he cannot last much longer."

Bilbo though that was probably true. The pain was building with every thrust and the ache in his knees did nothing to dull it. Air was becoming hard to find in the narrow corridor and darkness blurred the edges of his vision. Unconsciousness claimed the hobbit before Thorin could break down completely.

"I am indeed satisfied. You inspire great sacrifice and are not unaffected by it."

"Release us!" The dwarf demanded. "You had your games, now let us go!"

Thranduil seemed unable to decide if he would actually follow his agreement and then he waved his elegant hand at the elf that had finished straightening his robes. "Dispose of that trash and send the dwarves on their way."

"Bilbo?" Thorin almost managed to bend one of the bars in his desperation to reach the hobbit. There was no movement in his pale body as the elf picked up his small form and left the corridor."


	2. Barrels and Battles

Warning: This is a lot darker than I usually write, but it was a special request from a friend.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

The King's Treatment

No one spoke as they followed the river from the elven kingdom east towards Dale. Thorin had said only that Bilbo had secured their release and would not be joining them any further before he refused to utter another sound. The burglar had been precious to each of them, but only the prince had thought to lay any claim to his small form. Each step east brought a curse upon the elves to his mind, but he could not bare to utter them. As the small body, naked and broken had been born away, the dwarf's voice had gone with it. Words from much wiser dwarves than him came to mind, but he brushed them away in anger.

"You never know what you have until it's gone."

Three days of travel had still brought no end to the forest and they made camp on the banks of the river. No songs were sung and no stories told. Though he had been doubted early on in their quest, the absence of the burglar was keenly felt. Thorin sat near the water's edge, slowly smoking his pipe when something in the water caught his eye. A barrel floated by, pushed here and there by the swirling current. Another and another barrel followed until a whole dozen had passed.

The dwarf saw one more wooden barrel descending the river, but it seemed heavy, riding almost awkwardly among the rocks. Before he had fully decided to do anything, Thorin found himself wading into the river to catch the last barrel before it passed. The barrel did prove to be full when the dwarf wrestled it to the shore. But when he opened the lid, the last thing he had expected was to see a bleary eyed hobbit looking up at him.

Relief flooded the prince and he gently lifted the halfling, pulling him close, whispering his name into his tapered ear. "Bilbo, I have never been more happy to see anyone." As the strong arms encircled his tired body, the burglar let unconsciousness take him again.

Bilbo snuggled into the blanket pressing firmly over his sore body but startled away when the blanket snored loudly. The hobbit glanced around for the source of the noise and relaxed when he found Thorin pressed tightly to his side, one arm pillowing his head and the other holding the pile of blankets securely around the burglar. His small movements must have woken the dwarf as his blue-grey eyes went to the hobbit's.

"You're awake."

"And quite content to stay right where I am."

"I feared for your life, Bilbo."

The hobbit remembered the desperate way the prince had pleaded with the elf king. Despite the pain and humiliation though, he couldn't bring himself to great his actions. "I would do it all again."

"No. Never give up yourself for me."

Bilbo shrunk under the intense stare. "But you are a great lord and your kingdom needs you. I am only a little hobbit with no one to miss me."

"I need you to remain safe." His heavy arm tightened around the halfling.

The smaller creature looked up confused at the dwarf. "But I've been defiled by elves. Thranduil said you would never touch me again."

Thorin's words were slow and deliberate. "I do not know what I did to deserve such loyalty from you, but I would not be much of a king if I did not return that. Never fear that I would turn you away."

Bilbo nodded in understanding and relaxed into the warm blankets again. His whole body hurt and dawn was still far away. Everyone in the company was excited to have their burglar back and if they noticed his face drawn by pain, they knew better than to ask.

Thorin had never been more wrong in all his life for doubting the halfling's worth and it was proven again by the way Bilbo had given himself over to the elf king without a thought for himself. The dwarf worried about the strain it would put on their blossoming relationship but the hobbit never seemed to pull away from his touch or even mention what had transpired in Thranduil's dungeons. It was the dwarf that kept his hands to himself and never tried to sneak kisses when no one was looking and the Shireling noticed.

The pain had subsided at his ill use and he wanted nothing more than to move on from that terrible night but it was all brought back every time the dwarf drew back from his touch. By the time they reached the city of Dale. Bilbo had begun to avoid the prince so he would not have to watch as he pulled away.

High on the side of the mountain, the dwarves watched the stone move away and the small burglar enter the tunnel. Fear burned at him, but the thought of the disappointment that would paint Thorin's face if he refused drove him forward. After all, it hardly mattered if Smaug would burn him to a crisp when the dwarf lord would not bear his touch.

The impending war brought everything to a head at the front gate. Bilbo had decided to give the Arkenstone to Thorin as he departed for the shire, but when faced with the chance to overt the battle, he made the hardest choice of his life. Submitting to some nameless elf while Thranduil and the dwarf watched was nothing compared to handing over the gem to Bard. Feet dangling over the edge of the wall and strong hands around his neck, the burglar made his lips work, the words barely more than a whisper.

"You broke your promise, o'King."

"And what promise would I ever keep to a traitor like you?" Rage turned Thorin's grey-blue eyes as cold as ice.

"You have turned me away since leaving Mirkwood."

"I was wise to do so to the likes of you, thief."

Darkness crept slowly across his vision, making the furious dwarf's face swim. "Maybe someday you will understand that I have given everything to save you."

The king's hands were loosening to drop the hobbit to the valley below when a powerful voice rent the air. "Stop! If you do not like my burglar, then send him back to me unharmed."

Gandalf put an arm around the dizzy hobbit's shoulders and steered him down the valley to the camps of the men and elves. Bilbo felt as if the bottom had been ripped away from his heart and it had sunk right down to his toes. Who was he to think he could win any favor with the king when he had loyal kinsmen to surround him. It was all he could do not to let the tears fall.

"Thorin loves you Bilbo. He will remember it before the end."

The wizard's words did not help as the hobbit watched the massacre before him. No matter how much he wanted to run screaming into the fray and defend the company, he knew Thorin would never accept it, even as a sacrifice. Out of loyalty to the dwarves, Bilbo remained on Raven Hill and watched as Thorin fell. Tears blurred his large blue eyes and he didn't see Fili and Kili struck down defending their uncle or the huge form of Beorn bearing them away. A deep sadness came over the halfling and he let the darkness take him.

Sunset painted the sky a deep blood red when Bilbo opened his eyes again. An eerie silence had descended upon the dead in the field and he imagined the river ran with blood. Hobbits had no place in war and he shivered, drawing his knees close to his chest. The sudden appearance of a tall elf startled the burglar but he removed his ring when he heard his name called.

Thranduil knelt at the halfling's side, face unreadable but a scrape across his cheek bled a small ruby of blood making him seem more real. "Come halfling, you are needed."

Bilbo had no reason to trust the elf king, but he obediently stood and followed the blonde.

"I will never again doubt the loyalty of your kind."

The hobbit looked up sharply. "I accept your apology, but perhaps you should tell Thorin."

Thranduil had the humility to hang his head slightly. "I fear there will not be time for everyone to say what they must."

"What does that mean?"

"He is dieing and will see no other before you are brought to him."

Bilbo had seen the dwarf brought down by arrows and a well timed spear, but somehow the thought that he could actually die never occurred to the hobbit until now. Slowly, the elf pointed to a large tent and the burglar sprinted away. The scent of blood was heavy in the tent but the hobbit looked past the other beds and found Thorin. Hesitantly, Bilbo approached, looking down at the injured dwarf, his eyes closed peacefully. If not for the labored way his chest rose and fell, he could have been asleep.

Thorin felt eyes upon him even as he fought the waves of pain and opened his eyes. Large blue eyes stared from a dirty and bloody face and the dwarf felt his heart lurch. He did finally understand the halfling's words at the gate. He knew exactly what Bilbo had given up for him. And he did not deserve it. There was no reason the hobbit should have left the peaceful shire, endured hunger and hardships only to offer up his life before Azog and Thranduil.

Suddenly it felt like decades had passed since the gentle press of the burglar's lips to his in the elfin dungeons. The dwarf carefully raised one hand to beckon the halfling closer. He had avoided the small creature's touch for fear of waking some panic in him but now he saw how afraid Bilbo was of being rejected. When the hobbit finally took his hand, the dwarf held as tightly as he could.

"I would take back my words at the gate." His tongue felt dry and unwieldy in his mouth but he pressed on. "If only I had listened to you from the start."

"I deserved everything you said."

"Never. Gold is worthless when dead and you tried to tell me so." Thorin pulled the hobbit closer to his side. "Forgive me."

"Of course I do." A shining tear slipped down the Shireling's cheek.

"As I leave this world, would you bless my lips with yours once more?"

A king was not meant to ask, he would take what he desired, but Thorin wished only for what the hobbit was willing to gift him with. If Bilbo pulled away, Thorin knew he would deserve it. All of his pain seemed to melt away when he felt the burglar's chapped lips press against his own. Having the forgiveness he felt he had not earned was more than the dwarf king had wished for and allowed the exhaustion to pull him into darkness.

Bilbo felt the king go limp, but he refused to turn away while he still had breath to live. So the hobbit stood like a statue next to the dwarf, one calloused hand held tightly in his own and watched as a pallor crept over his face. He did not even have the strength of mind to silently repeat a mantra of pleading deals with the gods. Darkness truly fell over the valley but the hobbit did not see the elves moving through the tent or Dwalin lay Orcrist at Thorin's side.

The warrior gently stopped Ori from trying to lead the halfling away and returned to the rest of the company that could stand. Oil ran low in the lamps and the light dimmed but still the burglar would not move. Even the thick soles of his bare feet were numb and his belly complained at neglect when Bard entered. The human placed the Arkenstone beside the King's head and Bilbo rather thought the gem reminded him of the dwarf's eyes. The Shireling looked closely at the king again. Memorizing the way the light caught in his beard and the fine arch of his brows and he had to look again. there was color in Thorin's cheeks and Bilbo let himself wish for the lord to survive his wounds.


	3. Until Spring

Warning: This is a lot darker than I usually write, but it was a special request from a friend.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

The King's Treatment

Thorin could not remember the descriptions of the Halls of Waiting being so similar to the stone of Erebor. He turned his head, expecting to find his father at his side, but only a large chair sat by the bed, holding a sleeping hobbit curled up tight against the chill. The King did not know what to think, flashing first from the assumption that the halfling had also perished in the battle to wondering if such a creature could join him in his father's halls. Wanting more of an answer than silence, the dwarf tried to push himself upright in bed but a shock of pain through his side and arm made him gasp and his vision blur.

As he squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate bid to remain conscious, soft hands gently touched his face, soothing the grimace there. Thorin snapped his eyes open to take in the concerned face of the Shireling. "Am I dreaming?"

"Not hardly. I would think dreams to not hurt so much."

The dwarf wanted to laugh at that surprising bit of logic, but he settled on relaxing back into the furs. "So we won?"

"Yes. You are King Under the Mountain now."

Thorin did not want the halfling to move away again and he caught one small hand in his. "A king that understand the wisdom of the counsel of others."

Bilbo looked like he was ready to flee the room under the dwarf's intense gaze but he only settled for gently retrieving his hand. "I will summon the healers. I know the others will be glad to hear you are awake."

Exhaustion washed over the dwarf and he conceded that if he had not entered the halls of the dead, he might as well make the most of living.

Recovery was swift for the dwarf after he had passed the worst nights, refusing to remain abed as soon as he could support himself again. He strove to rebuild the mountain, calling back his people scattered to the remaining kingdoms and to renew peaceful relations with the men of Dale. Even as busy as he was, Thorin kept his eyes on Bilbo. The hobbit spoke of returning to the Shire but had yet to make any kind of preparation a month later.

The dwarf desperately wanted the halfling to be at his side to offer insight and counsel, but whenever he tried to track down Bilbo, he was always gone before he got there. On rare occasions, Thorin would eat with the rest of the company and the burglar would sidle in. But if the king approached, he would mutter some excuse and be gone again.

It was Balin that noticed the way Thorin would look around for the halfling and once he spotted his small form, his eyes did not wander far. Winter had truly begun when the old dwarf approached his king and asked for a moment of time. Despite the chamber being empty, Balin leaned around the younger dwarf and waved cheerily.

"Hello Bilbo." Thorin whipped around to look at the burglar, but there was no one in sight.

"I thought as much." Balin nodded sagely, thumbs tucked into his belt. "I don't know what happened between you two, but it needs to be solved quick."

"He can't leave, its almost winter." Thorin cursed his mouth when the older dwarf arched an eyebrow.

"Bilbo isn't leaving yet, but he is nervous."

"Nervous? Why? Are the Iron Hills dwarves speaking behind his back? Or the Firebeards?" Anger filled the king at the implication.

"Nothing like that. He is afraid you will send him away."

"But I forgave him. The business of the Arkenstone is done."

"You forgave him on your deathbed, which you are far from now." Balin stared hard at the younger dwarf.

"I would not take back my words now that I am well."

"The hobbit is less sure of that?"

"How am I to show him when he runs from me before I can speak?"

The gray haired dwarf shrugged and gave the king a look he didn't understand before leaving the room. Thorin sat on his throne and scowled into the slowly awakening halls. No hammers wrung in the depths and torches cast sporadic shadows across stone and metal. No one disturbed the king as he wondered how to prove himself to the halfling.

It took three days for the king to convince the youngest dwarf of the company of his intentions towards the hobbit before Ori would tell him where Bilbo spent his time. Thorin had completely forgotten about the great library housed in the oldest section of halls but once he saw it, he was not surprised that the gentle halfling had taken shelter there. It was peaceful and still between the great shelves of mouldering books and scrolls. Thorin made a note to visit the library more often and to ensure Ori had whatever he needed to protect the ancient tomes of history.

Thorin passed quietly past empty chairs and tables freshly cleared of dust. At the very back of the large room burned a lamp, gently illuminating a small figure curled up in a chair much too large for him. A tome rested on the halfling's knee but his curly head was lax, resting against his shoulder, asleep and snoring softly. For a long time, Thorin just looked at the hobbit. He had been proven wrong so many times by the small creature and knew he did not deserve his forgiveness, let alone his love. Not for the first time, the dwarf cursed Thranduil and his blasted curiosity for the poison it placed in their newly found closeness.

Bilbo sighed and the book slipped a little from his lap. Before it could hit the floor, the king caught it and set it on the table out of harms way. The contented sigh the halfling let out made the dwarf's heart ache as he remembered the cold words he had said and all the times he had pulled away, even if it was to spare the burglar the discomfort of another's touch.

It was too much for the king to resist as he barely touched the hobbit's curly hair, so unlike his own. The soft strands shone in the sun and glowed in torch light, curling with no regard for Bilbo's wishes. It reminded the dwarf of spun gold and he suddenly realized he had no wish for cold metal or dead stones if he could not have this treasure. He wanted to pull the halfling into his lap and embrace the smaller creature, whispering stories of his people in his finely tapered ear. He wanted to see the Shireling read books and pour over scrolls, a smile tugging at his eyes or nibbling his lip in concentration.

Thorin wished for nothing more than the permission to kiss those lips and sooth away his frown when the details of battle was too much for his simple desires. And at the thought of desires, the king remembered how flawless and smooth the hobbit's skin was in Thranduil's dungeon, how round the globes of his ass and the flush of his cock. The dwarf wished to bring pleasure to his small form to wash away all memory of pain and sadness. The sounds he knew would fall from the halfling's lips would be like honey, sweet and only for his ears alone.

But if Bilbo wanted, he would let him go, send him with an army of dwarves for his protection and would keep lookouts on the shire. There was nothing he would not give for the halfling should he wish it. But first he would assuage the Shireling's fears of rejection and let him make his own choice.

Bilbo woke slowly from his nap, reaching for the book he had left on his lap but his fingers tangled in hair rather than the rough parchment. His blue eyes shot open and found none other than Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, on the floor with his head resting gently on his knee. When the halfling tangled in his hair, Thorin slowly opened his eyes. Bilbo looked shocked to see the dwarf and his eyes reminded him of sunny sky's before spring rains.

"What are you doing here?" Despite being alone, the Shireling whispered.

"I've been looking for you for some time."

"I haven't been hiding."

Thorin was relieved that the hand in his long hair had not withdrawn. '"But you would not let me near."

"One cannot be pushed away if they stay far apart to begin with."

The king closed his eyes at the hurt in the hobbit's voice. "I would beg your forgiveness. I still wish to take back my words at the gate."

Bilbo's eyes softened and he stroked the dark mane slightly. "You have said so before."

"And I mean no less truth now that I am whole."

Balin had been right when he said the halfling feared he had changed his mind. As it was, the Shireling considered the words carefully before speaking. "I am afraid that we are too different."

Though Thorin had decided to allow the hobbit his choice, he never said the words aloud and so changed them slightly. He caught the smaller creature's hand in his and brought it to his cheek, nuzzling into the warm palm. "Winter is here. Let me show you we are not so different you and I"

"Until spring then."

"Until spring." The dwarf agreed.


	4. The Garden

Warning: This is a lot darker than I usually write, but it was a special request from a friend.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

The King's Treatment

Thorin often found himself pondering the halfling, even when he should have been paying attention to other thing like the delegation of men and elves or dictating who had mining rights in the richest tunnels. He idly thought to remind himself to thank Balin for weeding out the most trivial of petitions before his cogitations returned to the halfling. Bilbo Baggins was full of contradictions he decided. The hobbit did look more like a grocer than a burglar, but he managed to not only secure freedom for 13 dwarves from the elven kingdom, but also managed to steal from a dragon and live.

When Gandalf had thrust the little sword into his hands, he had protested, only to throw himself at an orc intent on beheading Thorin and again with the spiders. He stood bravely with the dwarven company when he could have returned to his soft bed and warm hearth. While resting with Beorn, the hobbit ate his fill and then sat among the flowers rather than laughing at the dwarves stories around the fire. Bilbo had gone running after them all the way through the shire even though he was a Baggins of Bag End. He was a wholly respectable creature that hid the fury and determination of a dragon defending its hoard.

Thorin dismissed whatever the dwarves before him were arguing and left the hall. He eventually arrived in the treasure hall and looked around the shimmering piles of finery for something to gift the hobbit with. Any dwarf would be delighted to receive anything from the king's treasury. But the king stopped. Bilbo was not a dwarf and did not crave for gold and jewels. He definitely knew their value and what they meant to others but it held no sway over his own heart. The dwarf quickly left the treasure and ventured to the gate to think.

Bilbo was a child of the earth, just as he was, but of dirt and soil, not stone and metal. Mountains endured time endlessly, uncaring of storms or changes. Little hills of soil felt the season keenly, always aware of the movement of the sun and moon and growing things. It was so fragile, and yet also endured, changed and renewed, but ever the same. Simple folk looked to simple things and hardly looked beyond their borders.

When Bilbo next saw Thorin, he had removed his crown and armor, as well as his gold. Dirt stained his knees and hands and the hobbit had to stifle a laugh at the smudge under one eye. The king's eyes softened when he saw the halfling and he caught the smaller man's hand, dragging him along a dusty corridor.

"Come, I wish you to see this."

The bright light stunned the hobbit momentarily but he soon adjusted and realized where they were. Thorin stood before a fresh garden where there had been only bare rock months before. The secret door they had used to sneak up on Smaug had been turned into a secret garden. Bilbo just gaped as the dwarf turned to a sapling and patted the dirt in closer.

"How is it not freezing?"

"The roots of the mountain run deep and remain warm year round."

The hobbit was quiet for a long time as he watched the king push dirt around the small landing on the mountain side. "It's beautiful." The halfling didn't say anything else as he slipped back into the tunnel and disappeared into the dark.

Despite the quick departure of the halfling. Thorin considered his first act a success. Especially as he found the hobbit would often visit and work his own gardening in the fresh soil. The first new growth began to take hold, fed by the mountain and those that dwelled within. With Bilbo tending to plants, the dwarf took time to shape a bench, just the right size for a hobbit to sit comfortable and read. It was made of wood, joined together with dark steel. When it was placed in front of the gray stone the thrush had broken snails. It looked as if wood and stone had come together carefully and in harmony.

The Shireling took delight in each change to their garden and as Thorin looked more on simple growing things, he wondered vaguely how he could have ever cared more for gold and jewels. The Arkenstone had not been on his mind since he had ordered the first loads of dirt brought up from the valley. He enjoyed nibbling on sweet honey buns and cheese in the garden as the sun shone gently down on his face. He cared more that grass was just beginning to poke through the soil than the new gold vein discovered in an old tunnel.

And then came the day that the sapling showed the first signs of buds on its sparse branches. Spring was soon approaching and the allotted time the hobbit had agreed to stay was almost over. The Shireling found the king sitting on the beach, glowering at the tree that had come to signify new growth and new life, but also heralded the halfling's departure.

"Don't look so harshly on it, trees have feelings too." Bilbo gently chide as he settle beside the dwarf.

"It's nearly spring." When Bilbo did not speak, Thorin continued on unable to stop the torrent of words as they fell from his lips. "As I worked on this garden, I did not think of gold or gems, or treasure from stone. I forgot that I was king and simply felt the growth of the seeds and sunlight on my face. It was simple things that call me now and I am afraid that when you leave I will not be able to look upon this garden the same again."

Bilbo nodded, but he did not speak until the king fidgeted in his seat. "Do you know what this sapling will grow to be?"

Thorin shook his head. "It was just the first that I found."

"It is an oak sprout. Do you know that hobbits put meaning to flowers and trees?"

The king stared at the small plant. His shield had come from an old tree that had once been no larger than the one before them.

"The oak symbolizes strength and courage of course, but also healing and renewal." Bilbo chuckled softly and twisted his fingers together. "In the Shire, all of the marriages are held in the shadow of a great oak. Those that are not, always end in tragedy."

Carefully, the king studied the halfling, noting how his cheeks flushed and his eyes were alive in the sun. His golden hair glowed and dirt stained his nails but he was more precious than the Arkenstone. When the hobbit's eyes went wide in shock, Thorin realized he must have spoken the thought aloud. The last thing he expected was to have the halfling pressed close, lips brushing his own eagerly. Contentedness flooded the king as he pulled the smaller creature into his lap and pressed his face into the soft hobbit neck.

The simple things soon became what the king lived for. Brushing his hands over the hobbit's arm, or pressing his face to the soft curls brought peace to his heart. Thorin became known as a generous king, freely giving gold to those that deserved or needed it, caring only for one treasure within the halls. In turn, the sapling grew tall and strong on the side of the mountain, a testament to his new life after Smaug and the courage to build anew, remembering the past but the strength to make the future new.

The oak shadowed many bonding over decades but as long years passed, a stone was placed at its roots bearing a name and not much else. Not many years later, another stone appeared beside the first. Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield were forever shadowed by the great oak and when it finally succumbed to age and time, a new sprout grew from the wood of the old, a testament to strength and courage and good growing things.


End file.
